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. 

































THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 






































« 



































has a purpose beyond that of giving pleasure to 
small men and wee women. This collection has 
been placed between covers hoping that it may 
help to form a love for good literature during the 
period of tender years. 

The intention of the book is to make impres- 
sions of enduring value on the white page of 
youthful innocence. In this loving service to 
children, the verses and stories included have been 
generously given by authors and publishers. The 
names inscribed on the leaves are those of men 
and women who have won the tribute due to 
recognized merit, and whose works have gained 
a deserved and world-wide acceptance. 


Mary E. Phillips. 


IX 

















































































. 






























































































































































A Birthday Wish for a Child . 

Written for Laurel Leaves. 

Gwendolyn and Vivien . . . 

Written for Laurel Leaves. 

The Patter of Little Feet . . 

By permission of the Author. 

The Birthday in Fairyland . . 

By permission of the Author. 

Little Tommy Smith . . . . 

From “ Rhymes of Childhood.” By 
permission of the author and Bowen- 
Merrill Co. 


PAGE 

Gustave Gottheil , D . D . . . 1 

Eli^a Allen Starr .... 4 

Susan Elstcn Wallace ... 9 

Thomas Wentworth Higginson 14 

James Whitcomb Riley . . 3S 



xii CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Nina 

Written for Laurel Leaves. 

Joaquin Miller .... 

. 44 

Samuel Langhorne Clemens 

Written for Laurel Leaves. 

Sarah Coan IVaters . 

. 46 

Battle Hymn of the Republic . 

By permission of the Author. 

Julia IVard Howe . . . 

. 53 

Story of a Dory 

By permission of the Author and Louis 
Prang. 

Jev. Edward Everett Hale 

. 66 

The Boy Poet 

Laurence Hutton .... 

. 75 

The Kitten’s Epitaph .... 

Laurence Hutton .... 

. 77 

Thackeray and the Boy . . . 

Excerpt from “ A Boy I Knew and 
Four Dogs,” By permission of the 
Author and Harper & Brothers. 

Laurence Hutton .... 

. 79 

Joseph Brant 

Written for Laurel Leaves. 

Francis W. Halsey . . . 

82 

Clover-Top and Thistle-Down . 

From a “ Little Book of Tribune 
Verse.” By permission of Mrs. 
Eugene Field and Tandy-Wheeler 
Co. 

Eugene Field 

. 102 

Calling the Flowers .... 

From “Rhymes and Jingles.” By 
permission of the Author and 
Charles Scribner’s Sons. 

Mary Mapes Dodge . . . 

. 107 

Garden Fable 

Written for Laurel Leaves. 


. Ill 

General Lewis Wallace . . . 

Written for Laurel Leaves. 

Mary H. Krout .... 

. 112 

God’s Flowers 

Written for Laurel Leaves. 

Joaquin Miller 

. 132 

Fairyland 

William Wetmore Story 

. 136 

My Ride with Daniel Webster . 

Excerpt from “An Epistle to Poster- 
ity.” By permission of the Author 
and Harper & Brothers. 

M. E. W. Sherwood . . . 

. 142 

Fable of the Mouse 

Written for Laurel Leaves. 

Thomas B. Bryan .... 

. 149 

Dante and Beatrice .... 

Titus Munson Coan . . . 

. 150 


By permission of the Author. 



Y 

PAGE 


Half-Title. Photograph by Notman, Boston i 

Frontispiece. Angelita. Photograph by S. Young, Los Angeles . iv 

Title. Photograph v 

Dedication. Photograph by S. Young, New York City .... vii 

Preface. Photograph by Tabor Co., San Francisco ix 

Contents. Photograph by Phillips, Philadelphia xi 

List of Illustrations. George. Photograph by Saunders & 

Meuller, Buffalo xiii 

Head-Piece. Photograph by Harrison, Chicago 1 

Prayer. Photograph by W. & D. Downey, London 2 

Tail-Piece. “ Moses,” by Michael Angelo 3 


XIV 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Eliza Allen Starr. Photograph 4 

Head-Piece. Photograph 5 

The Capital, Rome. Photograph 6 

Tail-Piece 7 

W. W. Story. Photograph by Waldo Story, Rome 8 

Head-Piece. By F. Lautberger. Photograph by Soule Photo- 
graphic Co., Boston 9 

“ Under My Window.” Photograph by Soule Photographic Co., 

Boston 9 

Photograph by Soule Photographic Co., Boston ll 

The Grand House of my Neighbor 12 

Speaking Picture. Photograph by Nicholson & Son, Crawfords- 

ville, Ind 13 

Thomas Wentworth Higginson. From a Daguerreotype. Pho- 
tograph by Pach, Cambridge. By permission of Houghton, 

Mifflin, & Co 14 

Head-Piece 15 

Elf 16 

The Fairy Flower Petal 17 

The Fairy Flower Raft 19 

Fairyland. By J. M.W. Turner. Photograph by Soule Photo- 
graphic Co., Boston 21 

The Fairy Chariot 25 

the Sweet-Toned Choir 27 

The Blue Bell Rings 29 

The Crowning 31 

The Fairy’s Dance 33 

Annie. Photograph by Pach, New York 36 

Farewell 37 

James Whitcomb Riley. Photograph by Soule Photographic Co., 

Boston 38 

Tommy Smith. Photograph by Harrison, Chicago 41 

Photograph 43 

Nina. Photograph 45 

Mark Twain. Photograph by Rockwell, New York City .... 46 

Head-Piece 47 

Life on the Mississippi. Photograph by Charles R. Martin, Han- 
nibal, Mo 49 


ILLUSTRATIONS xv 

PAGE 

Boyhood Home of Mark Twain. Photograph by Charles R. Mar- 
tin, Hannibal, Mo 49 

Hannibal, Mo. Photograph by Charles R. Martin, Hannibal, Mo. . 50 

The Prince and the Pauper . 51 

Design 53 

St. Michael, “Angel of the Sword.” By Guido Reise. Photo- 
graph by Soule Photographic Co., Boston 54 

The Soldier’s Dream. By E. Detaille. Photograph by Soule Pho- 
tographic Co., Boston 56 

Review of Soldiers at close of War. By permission of Cas- 
sell Publishing Co 58 

Gabriel. “Angel of the Trumpet.” By Paul Delaroche. Photo- 
graph by Soule Photographic Co., Boston 60 

Nativity. By Carl Muller. Photograph by Soule Photographic 

Co., Boston 62 

Julia Ward Howe. From a miniature by Anne Hall. By per- 
mission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co ... 64 

Design 65 

Edward Everett Hale. Photograph by Rockwood Bros., New 

York City 66 

Thatcher’s Island, Cape Ann. Photograph by Soule Photo- 
graphic Co., Boston 67 

“Hauling the Line.” By R. Anderson. Photograph by Soule 

Photographic Co., Boston 68 

Gloucester Harbor. Photograph by Proctor Bros., Gloucester . 69 

India Ink Sketch. By Antoinette Dwight 69 

Marine Pen Sketch. By F. Schuyler Mathews 70 

Dan Foster’s Bride. By Hagborg. Photograph by Soule Photo- 
graphic Co , Boston . 71 

Luke Foster. Pen Sketch by F. Schuyler Mathews 71 

“She Lay in a Faint on the Shore.” Pen Sketch by F. Schuyler 

Mathews 72 

“Autumn’s Decline of the Dory.” From color sketch by F. 

Schuyler Mathews 73 

Head-Piece 75 

Tail-Piece 76 

The Kitten’s Epitaph. Photograph by Soule Photographic Co., 

Boston 77 


XVI 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


Thackeray and the Boy. From Laurence Hutton’s “ A Boy I 


Knew and Four Dogs.” By permission of Harper & Bros. . 78 

Head-Piece 79 

Joseph Brant. Portrait by Romney, from “The Old New York 

Frontier.” By permission of Charles Scribner’s Sons ... 82 

Joseph Brant. From Stone’s “ Life of Brant ” 83 

Initial Letter. Mohawk Papoose 83 

Sir William Johnson. From “ The Old New York Frontier.” By 

permission of Charles Scribner’s Sons 84 

Johnson Hall. By courtesy of Cyrus Durey, Johnstown, N. Y. . 86 

Brant with Missionary. From an old print 87 

J. Fenimore Cooper and Otsego Lake. By courtesy of G. Pom- 
eroy Keese, Cooperstown, N. Y 88 

Brant’s London Friends 91 


Queen Charlotte. From portrait by Benjamin West. Photo- 
graph by Soule Photographic Co., Boston. 

George III. From engraving by Hopwood. 

Lord George Germaine. From engraving by Pollard. 

Sheridan. From drawing by R. Coubould. 

Fox. From Drawing by W. H. Brown. 

Burke. From a miniature by W. H. Brown. 

Brant’s Friends in Philadelphia 93 

Washington. Photograph by Soule Photographic Co., Boston. 

Talleyrand. Photograph by Soule Photographic Co., Boston. 

John Hancock. Portrait by Copley. Photograph by Baldwin 
Coolidge, Boston. 

Aaron Burr. From a painting in Old State House, Philadelphia. 

Theodosia Burr. From the Vanderlyn portrait in Davis’ “ Life 

of Burr” 94 

Hugh Earl Percy, Duke of Northumberland. From Bolton’s “ Earl 

Percy’s Letters.” By permission of Charles E. Goodspeed . 96 

Brant’s Monument. Brantford, Out., Canada. From photograph. 

By permission of E. D. Cameron 98 

Brant’s Church. From an old print 99 

Mohawk Tomahawk and Pipe of Peace 100 

Mohawk Chief’s Cap, Bow, and Arrow 101 

Eugene Field. Photograph by Varney, Chicago, 111 102 

Portrait 103 


ILLUSTRATIONS xvii 

PAGE 

Portrait 104 

“ Blow Loud for the Blossoms ” 107 

“Blow Low for the Daisies” 108 

“ But as Soft as I Can ” 109 

(The three subjects above are details from paintings by F. Letter.) 

Mary Mapes Dodge. By permission of The Century Company . 110 

Hon. Thomas B. Bryan. (“/Esop A.D. 1903.”) Photograph by 

Root, Chicago ill 

Gen. Lew. Wallace. By permission of Sarony, New York City . 112 
Governor David Wallace. Photograph by Nicholson & Son, 

Crawfordsville, Ind 113 

Samuel F. B. Morse. By courtesy of Charles Goodspeed, Boston 113 

State Seal of Indiana 113 

Home of Lew. Wallace. Photograph by Nicholson & Son, 

Crawfordsville, Ind 115 

The Author’s Art Works. Photograph by Nicholson & Son, 

Crawfordsville, Ind 117 

Monterey and Portrait of Lieut. Lew. Wallace. From “Travels 

in Mexico.” By courtesy of Dana Estes, & Co., Boston . . 119 

Henry Lane Wallace. Photograph by Nicholson & Son, Craw- 
fordsville, Ind 121 

Gen. Wallace’s Tower. Photograph by Nicholson & Son, 

Crawfordsville, Ind 122 

“The Ben-Hur Beech.” Photograph by Nicholson & Son, Craw- 
fordsville, Ind 

Maj.-Gen. Lew. Wallace. Photograph by Nicholson & Son, 

Crawfordsville, Ind 125 

Governor’s Palace, Santa Fe. A pencil sketch by Gen. Lew. 

Wallace. By courtesy of G. H. Hurst 127 

The “ Ben Hur” Room. From “ Land of the Pueblos,” by Susan 

E. Wallace. By courtesy of G. H. Hurst 127 

Abdul Hamid. Photograph by Soule Photographic Co., Boston . 128 
“A Good Working Library.” Photograph by Nicholson & Son, 

Crawfordsville, Ind 139 

Lewis and Noble Wallace. Photograph by Nicholson & Son, 

Crawfordsville, Ind 131 

Joaquin Miller 132 

“ Little Paul.” Portrait by George H. Story, New York City . 133 


xviii ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 


“These Flowers” 134 

“A Jonquil.” Photograph by Tabor Co. San Francisco . . . 135 

Christ’s Anthems. By B. Plockhorst. Photograph by Soule Pho- 
tographic Co., Boston 136 

“The Little Fairy.” From painting by S. Anderson. Photo- 
graph by Soule Photographic Co., Boston 137 

In the Wood — “Morning.” Painting by C. Barnier. Photo- 
graph by Soule Photographic Co., Boston 141 

Daniel Webster. From Portrait by Healy. By permission of 

Hon. Thomas B. Bryan 142 

Head-Piece 143 

Mary Elizabeth Wilson (Mrs. M. E. W. Sherwood). From 

colored crayon by Mrs. Arthur Sherwood, New York City . 145 

Green Harbor, Marshfield. From “Life of Webster.” By 

courtesy of Little, Brown, & Co., Boston 147 

“Fable of a Mouse” 149 

“Beatrice.” From “Amore di Dante.” By Melchion Missirini . 150 

Dante. From Giotto’s fresco. Photograph by Soule Photo- 
graphic Co., Boston 151 

Titus Munson Coan 152 




mercies before thou closest them again in sleep. 
Listen to His voice when He speaks to thee 


i 



A BIRTHDAY WISH 


J 


through thy conscience and obey gladly, swiftly, 
and without questioning of the why and the 
wherefore. If His mercy touches thy soul, yield 
with joy and hasten to be merciful thyself to 
some poor sufferer in thy neighborhood. If 
thou hast sinned, pray for His forgiveness and 
resolve to be more watchful in the future and 
stronger in resisting temptation. 

Says Holy Writ : “ In all thy ways acknowl- 
edge Him and He will smooth thy path before 
thee.” Of a truth, this is the way of life, which 
if a man chooses it and never swerves from it, he 
will walk safely through all the trials and tribula- 
tions of his years on Earth; he will never be 
without hope, or without light, or without a 
cheerful heart. 







there vfiaesars triumphed, mighty «mome 3 
s song, its sculpture made for him 



rhe poets fire inspired Ms touch, 
rhe elay,the marble felt its thrill , ' 
$n.d with a joj supreme and swift 


Urn forms of he auty, grandeur, peace » 
ell may you prize Jus spotless fame, 
>nd cite ris.h In your gentle hearts . 
i®is vvorld'Wide honored name. 





10 


LAUREL LEAVES 


Anon to the brook he wanders, 
In swift and noiseless flight, 
Splashing the sparkling ripples 
Like a fairy water sprite ; 


No sand under fabled river 
Has gleams like his golden hair, 
No pearly sea shell is fairer 
Than his slender ankles bare ; 


Nor the rosiest stem of coral 
That blushes in ocean’s bed 
Is sweet as the flush that follows 
Our darling’s airy tread. 


This child is our “ speaking picture,” 
A birdling that chatters and sings ; 
Sometimes a sleeping cherub 
(Our other one has wings). 


His heart is a charmed casket 
Full of all that ’s cunning and sweet, 
And no harp strings hold such music 
As follows his twinkling feet. 



\ 





From a broad window our neighbor 
Looks down on our little cot 
And watches the “ poor man’s blessing; '’ 
I cannot envy his lot. 

He has pictures, books, and music, 

Bright fountains and noble trees ; 
Flowers that bloom in vases 
And birds from beyond the seas ; 


But never does childish laughter 
His homeward footstep greet — 
His stately halls ne’er echo 
The tread of innocent feet. 

12 


When the glory of sunset opens 
The highway by angels trod, 

And seems to unbar the city 
Whose builder and maker is God, 


Close by the crystal portal, 

1 see by the gates of pearl 
The eyes of an angel — 

A twin-born little girl. 


And I ask to be taught and directed 
To guide his footsteps aright, 

So that I be accounted worthy 
To walk in sandals of light; 


And hear amid songs of welcome 
From messengers trusty and fleet, 
On the starry floor of heaven 
The patter of little feet. 

13 






OW, I must say to all 
the people who are 
sitting down to read 
this story, that they 
must guess for them- 
selves when it all took place ; 
for I am certainly not going 
to tell them. And 1 
\am not going to in- 
form them who the 
little girl is whose 
adventures it relates ; 
j^only that she is sit- 
ting on a footstool 
before me now, reading about fairies, and that 
her name is Annie. 

Reading about fairies, 1 say — about those grand 
times when this beautiful world was not enjoyed 
only by great awkward men and women, with a 
few troublesome boys and girls — but when thou- 
sands of little invisible beings (not to be seen by 
15 


16 


LAUREL LEAVES 


our dull eyes at least) hovered over the earth, 
crowding all about us, and watching all our 
motions ; when not a shrub or bush but was the 
scene of tiny sports, and not a sod but bore the 
print of tiny feet; when every flower-bud over- 


flowed with honey- 
dew ; every blade 



W of grass, as it waved 
Tf in the wind, rocked 
S* the cradle of an 


elfin child ; and every 
hanging bough was 
laden with little beings, 
who did not weigh it 


down, as it swung to and fro ! And happy the 
mortal to whom these mysterious creatures were 
willing to show themselves. So at least it seemed 
to Annie, who closed her book, and put both 
hands over her eyes, to see if she could imagine 
how a fairy would look. 

“ Oh,” sighed Annie, “ it is too bad ! 1 would n’t 
care for anything else, if 1 could only have lived 
in times when I could have seen a fairy ! ” 

She started, for a strain of soft music seemed 
to come faintly to her ears, and stopped as she 
held her breath to listen. 


BIRTHDAY IN FAIRYLAND 17 


“ It would be easy to guess what that was, if 
there were fairies now,” murmured Annie. “ But 
no, they are all gone ! ” 

Again the sweet music sounded, but louder and 
nearer; and then she heard a silvery voice that 
seemed close by, singing — 

“Oh, no! oh, no! 

Fairy creatures are not dead, 

Fairy pleasures are not fled. 

Fairy bowers are not shaded, 

Fairy blossoms are not faded ; 

Fairy skies are ever fair, 

Fairy forms still fill the air : 

Mortal ! if thou wouldst see, 

Ope thine eyes and gaze on me ! ” 

Annie raised her 
eyes, and oh ! the lovely 
vision that appeared 
before her — of a little 
being floating in the 
air, dressed in a mantle 
of blue violet-petals, 
and a gypsy hat of the 
white anemone flower, 
and with such blue 
eyes and golden hair as 
were never seen cer- 



18 


LAUREL LEAVES 


tainly in a mortal face. But she saw her for a 
moment only; for, as Annie looked, the figure 
seemed gradually to fade away to a shadow, and 
then disappear entirely, as the same silvery voice 
warbled in a lower tone — 

“ Fairy bands may never sever, 

Fairy homes are bright as ever : 

Mortal ! if thou them wouldst see, 

Fear no ill, but follow me ! ” 

“ Take me, oh, take me ! ” cried Annie, eagerly 
starting from her seat. And again the music 
swelled up, and for a moment she thought she 
saw the blue eyes and the golden hair gleam be- 
neath the white anemone before her ; but she 
looked again, and it seemed only a white flower- 
petal, with a few blue and yellow tints, that a 
passing breeze had floated through the window. 
But the music was no fancy ; for a chorus of tiny 
voices seemed to sing — 

“ Away, away, to our Fairyland, 

Till again on its charmed earth we stand ; 

And thus, O mortal ! we take thy hand : 

Away, away, to our Fairyland ! ” 

Then Annie felt a soft pressure on her hands 
from little hands unseen, which yet were strong 


BIRTHDAY IN FAIRYLAND 19 


enough to raise her from the ground. But what 
way she went, whether it was through the win- 
dow, the roof, the floor, or the wall, she knew 
not, and as little did she know whither her invis- 



ible supporters bore her afterwards ; for she felt 
nothing more until she came to her senses, and 
found herself floating on a fragrant raft of flowers 
and green leaves heaped loosely together, across 
a gentle and shady river. Hands unseen lifted 
her from her sweet couch when the bank was 
reached, and voices unseen sung— 



20 


LAUREL LEAVES 


“ Happy stranger ! here you stand 
Safe at last on Fairyland, 

By our fragrant breezes fanned. 

“ Gaze upon us without fear : 

Thou art welcome, stranger, here, 

To our homes and comrades dear. 

“ Welcome to these joyous bowers, 

Welcome to our birds and flowers, 

Welcome to our happy hours.” 

And, as they sung, Annie seemed to feel a veil 
drop from her eyes, and a change came over all 
her senses ; she seemed to breathe a purer air, to 
inhale sweet odors, to hear lovelier sounds, and to 
tread on softer earth. 

And oh ! the view that was presented to her 
eyes. A city seemed to lie extended before her — 
a city in miniature, with streets and gardens and 
houses and palaces ; streets brilliantly paved with 
the wing-cases of beetles, and shaded by rows of 
lofty golden-rods; gardens with high hedges of 
pansies and pinks, and neatly laid out in walks 
and beds, with flowers smaller than the smallest 
cup-moss (such as we have never seen except with 
a microscope, and have no names for), with orna- 
mental shrubs, such as buttercups and daffodils, 
with fruitful orchards of currants and raspberries, 






22 


LAUREL LEAVES 


and magnificent forests of rose-bushes ; houses of 
every variety of material, color, and form, from 
the simple cottage of green leaves and twigs, up 
to the stately mansion of many-colored tulip- 
petals, with its splendid colonnade of tulip-stems ; 
and vast palaces with various ornaments, some 
bearing a dome of the inverted cup of a large 
white lily 1 And among all these streets and 
buildings were moving busily about little forms 
of men and women of the same size with a group 
who stood around Annie. And Annie knew that 
she was in Fairy Land 1 

“ Well,” said Annie, sitting down on the grass, 
“ will some one please to tell me if this is real 
or a dream ? Are you really fairies ? Often 
and often have I wished to see you and your 
land ; but 1 have always been told that if you 
really ever did live, it was a great while ago, and 
that only silly little children believed in you 
now.” 

“You see that it was you who were right,” 
replied a gentle voice from among the fairies: 
“ men think we do not live, because they do not 
see us. We have ceased to live as we once did 
among the haunts of men ; but we still hover 
around them continually, and spend a large por- 


BIRTHDAY IN FAIRYLAND 23 


tion of our time in doing them service without 
their knowing it. For years no mortal has seen 
us, and many have forgotten us. Our homes 
are invisible to all but you, and it is by the 
favor of our Queen only that you are allowed 
to approach them. She sent us to bring you 
hither, and now she herself is coming. Do you 
not hear ? ” 

Annie listened ; and well she knew the sweet 
sounds which seemed rapidly approaching. And 
suddenly there appeared before her eyes a chariot 
drawn by butterflies, and made of a half-blown 
rose, and upon it sat that sweet form in the blue 
mantle. Around her floated on golden wings a 
crowd of fairy forms, some bearing in their hands 
the tiny flutes and trumpets from which the 
familiar music came ; while others, as they came 
near, began to sing, in the same sweet melody 
which Annie had heard before, but which now 
sounded still sweeter in this new atmosphere, 
these words — 

“ For many an hour we have wandered o’er 
Dark hillside and forest green ; 

By verdant meadow and flowery shore 
We have hovered around the car which bore 
Our Fairy Queen, 

Our Fairy Queen ! 


24 


LAUREL LEAVES 


“ O’er sorrow and pain and grief we have flown, 

O’er many a saddened scene ; 

But sorrow is past, and joy alone 
Is left in the path where the step is known 
Of our Fairy Queen, 

Our Fairy Queen ! 

“ But hither, hither, each fay that roves, 

Let your graceful forms be seen 
Where fresher flowers and greener groves 
Welcome the child whom Aglaure loves 
To the realm of our Fairy Queen, 

Our Fairy Queen ! ” 

The song ceased ; the fairies fell back and left 
Aglaur£ (for that was the name of the Queen, 
Annie’s beautiful visitor) standing alone in front. 
And, as Annie looked, her lovely lips opened ; 
and, with a voice that sounded like the murmur- 
ing of a brook that seeks protection from the hot 
sun’s rays, under the overhanging boughs and 
grass, she said these words: “ Often, dear Annie, 
I have been near you in your earthly home, when 
your heart has been weary of the common duties 
of every day, and you have sighed and wished*to 
be released to sport with us under some old tree 
which looks down kindly on our revels ; to feast 
with us on the dew-filled acorn-cup ; with us to 
wander at will over that wide earth of which you 







26 


LAUREL LEAVES 


have seen so little. Often have these thoughts 
crossed your mind, and you have said to yourself 
that nothing which home could give was to be 
compared with the delights of fairy power and 
liberty. But I do not wish you, dear child, to 
think that it is so; if you could look into the 
hearts of fairies, as you will soon look into their 
lives, and compare them with those of men, you 
would soon see the secret of happiness ; — that, 
with love and duty, every mortal can be happy, 
while without them no fairy can have true pleas- 
ure. Our powers and privileges are greater than 
are yours, but so are our duties ; it is always so, 
and joy is equally in the power of alL ,, 

She paused; and the sweet-toned choir sung — 

“ Joy of lives that seek to be 
What daily duties may decree ; 

Joy of love, sincere and true, 

Felt toward all to whom ’t is due ; 

These the joys that mortals bless, 

These make fairies’ happiness.” 

“ That is the true secret of pleasure,” continued 
the gentle fairy, when the music ceased. “ And 
now for a visit to my palace.” 

Aglaure waved her wand, and while the chariot 
descended to the ground at Annie’s side, she sud- 



‘TEE &XW&V TdDlEKD 


denly felt a change come over her ; and when she 
looked round again, she seemed to be standing 
near a mighty city with a stately chariot and a 
noble lady by her side; but in a moment Annie 
perceived what was really the case, that the 
change was in herself, for that she had assumed 
the size and form of the fairies by whom she was 
surrounded. But, without staying to wonder at 
the change, she ascended to the side of Aglaure ; 
the butterflies moved forward, and, entering the 
city, went proudly on, surrounded by troops of 
fairies, until they entered the palace. There the 
magnificence almost startled Annie, who seemed 
to have thrown off all her mortal feelings with her 
mortal shape. 


27 


28 


LAUREL LEAVES 


When they had entered the palace Aglaure left 
them, while Annie was led into a large hall. The 
same fairy with whom she had been speaking at 
the Queen’s approach soon came to her and said : 
“ Do you know, Annie, the occasion on which 
you have been brought hither?” And when 
Annie replied that she did not — “You must 
know, then,” the fairy continued, “that Eudora, 
the eldest daughter of Queen Aglaur6, has this 
day reached her tenth year; and that, as a reward 
for the sweetness and virtue she has shown for 
the last year, there is to be a grand entertainment 
at the palace, at which all the children of the city 
have been invited to be present, four of whom 
have been selected to place a crown on the head 
of Eudora, and then ” — Here she was interrupted 
by the sudden stroke of a bell in another part of 
the palace, which, clear and musical, rang through 
the halls, loud at first, and dying so gradually 
away that you could hardly know when the faint 
murmur ceased. 

“ Hasten ! hasten ! ” cried the fairy, “ the blue- 
bell rings to call us to the Hall of the Crown- 
ing;” and, as they went, a messenger from the 
Queen met them, to call Annie to stand by her 
side. 


BIRTHDAY IN FAIRYLAND 29 


I cannot undertake to describe the ceremony of 
crowning; the beauty of the vast hall, crowded 
by graceful forms whose sparkling wings made 



beautiful array of children all dressed in frocks 
made of white violet-petals. The four who were 
to crown Eudora wore each a glittering crown of 



JO 


LAUREL LEAVES 


real fire r fly sparkles; but Eudora’s was a single 
wreath. I cannot describe the murmur of delight 
when it was placed on her brow; how modest 
she looked, and how proud Aglaure seemed. I 
must leave these to be imagined, and tell how, 
after it was over, a prelude of sweet music was 
heard from a single flute (made of a wind-flower 
stalk), and the well-known choir sung this 
song — 

“ Fairest flower on fairy field, . 

Greenest leaf on fairy tree, 

All your graceful beauties yield 
In Eudora’s wreath to be ; 

While you can, your freshness give, 

Lend your sweetness while you live. 
Flower-crown must fade away, 

Crowns of virtue ever stay. 

* 

“ We who on Eudora’s head 

Place the wreath our hands have made, 

Know that soon its charms are fled, 

Soon its summer hues must fade ; 

But Eudora’s sweetness gains 
Another wreath that still remains. 

Flower-crown must fade away, 

Crowns of virtue ever stay. 

“ Happy she who gains this wreath, — 

’T is to love and duty given ; 

Happy in this world beneath, 

Happy in the sight of heaven ; 


Common ills may strive in vain 
To change this happiness to pain. 
Flower-crown must fade away, 

Crowns of virtue ever stay.” 

“ Prove this to be true, my darling child,” said 
Aglaure to her daughter, “and I ask no more. 
And now go to your playmates.” 

If I said that I could not possibly describe 
the scene of the crowning, I certainly should be 
very rash to try to describe the sports of that 
wonderful afternoon. I only know that every 
3i 



32 


LAUREL LEAVES 


amusement and delight that human and fairy 
experience put together could contrive, — every 
sport and game ever played upon this earth, and 
(so far as 1 know) on all the other earths, — all 
were put in practice there; and Annie thought 
the fairy children, and the fairy children thought 
Annie, quite the most delightful companions ever 
known. And it was not till all were so thoroughly 
tired out that they had to sit down and rest, that 
any one of that happy band would pause for a 
moment. 

“ Dear Annie,” said Aglaure, as she came at 
last to rest her weary limbs by the side of the 
Queen, “ are you willing to stay with us forever 
and never go back to your home on earth ? ” 

“Oh, yes, yes!” said Annie, “for, though I 
have dreamed of fairies all my life, I never dreamed 
of having such a good time. I never want to see 
my home again, and I have almost forgotten how 
it looks. But where is Eudora gone? At first 
she was the gayest of all, and those always seemed 
happiest who were nearest her; but now 1 do not 
see her.” 

“ She has not been here for some time,” said 
the Queen ; “ for there are beings dearer to her 
than even these playmates, happy as your play has 


been. Come with me, and you shall see that I 
spoke the truth in what I said to you before we 
entered the city/’ 

Annie followed the Queen through a long and 
lofty passageway, at the end of which Aglaur£ 
threw open the door, and entered a smaller apart- 
ment. And there a beautiful scene was before 
them. Eudora was seated in a large chair, sur- 
rounded by as lovely a group as ever artist 
painted, — a group of brothers and sisters, — of 
whom two boys were clinging to her chair, and 
chattering to her as fast as their tongues could 
go ; a third (whose eager face, as it looked up at 
Annie, reminded her too well of the sunny eyes 
and fair hair of a certain earthly child she had not 
quite forgotten) was seated on the floor, just 
3 33 


LAUREL LEAVES 


M 

finishing a house built of blocks, by putting for a 
roof the crown itself ; which the fourth, a baby in 
Eudora’s arms, had taken and thrown to the 
ground, without her ever finding it out! No 
wonder Eudora had left the crowded hall ! 

Annie looked intently at the lovely scene ; and 
by degrees a mist seemed to gather over her 
mind, and soon thick and fast came back the 
memories of home, and feelings that had been for 
a time laid aside in the excitement of these new 
scenes came rushing in upon her heart, and she 
seemed to see before her the group of loving ones 
at her own dear home. All was like the fairy 
scene before her — the two busy talkers, and the 
little architect, and even the baby, all were there ; 
but the chair was empty, and where was Annie ? 
“ And shall I never, never see the darlings again ? ” 
thought she ; “ and have 1 agreed to stay here for- 
ever, and let them look for me in vain, and at last 
mourn for me as lost ? Oh ! how foolish and 
wicked I was to think that anything here could 
give me any pleasure without having them with 
me ! ” And she covered her face with her hands ; 
but the tears stole out between them, and fell 
thick and fast on the ground. “ O kind Aglaur6,” 
she cried, “ let me go back to my home on earth. 


BIRTHDAY IN FAIRYLAND 35 

How could I ever dream of being happy anywhere 
else ! Oh, take me there again ! ” 

“ Dear Annie,” said the beautiful Queen, bend- 
ing tenderly over her, “ I had never a wish to pre- 
vent you from returning to that happy home. 
Believe me, my only wish was to make you value 
it better, to teach you the truth 1 told you when 
I entered the city, and to show you by the 
example of my Eudora. I tell you again the true 
secret of happiness: with love and duty every 
mortal may be happy, and no fairy can ever be 
so without them. Take this lesson with you to 
your home, and so farewell ! ” 

Aglaure placed one hand in Annie’s, and waved 
her wand. The room seemed suddenly darkened, 
— a confused feeling overclouded her senses,— 
there was a moment of insensibility, through all 
of which she still held fast to the hand of the 
Queen, pressing it as if for support ; and she still 
held it when her senses, and the light and the air, 
came back to her, and lo 1 she was sitting in her 
own chair at her own home, — and, wonder of 
wonders ! — the Queen Aglaure was her own dear 
mother ! 

“ I should think you had slept almost enough, 
Annie,” said Stevie, rather scornfully. 







BIRTHDAY IN FAIRYLAND J7 


“You’ve been asleep all through mother’s 
beautiful story,” said Willie. 

“ Lazy girl,” stammered out little Agnes. 

And even Master Baby expressed his opinion 
by opening his blue eyes wider and wider, as if to 
make up for Annie’s being shut so long. 

“O mother, mother!” cried Annie, as she 
threw herself into her mother’s arms, “ I never 
will leave you again for Fairy Land or Dream 
Land either. But what was that sound ? ” 

No one heard it but Annie ; but it was low 
distant music, dying away in the words, “ Fare- 
well, Farewell.” 




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?©vf r’@ 





9 m mimicry, 
hits ?”<§\i4 i^u&diyM^ 

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I 




Iff all 


Iff b© 


w ©rig/ a garden were , 

Is were flower©, 

>e ©f bat feisisiedihere 
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i^Jwoald baTT3^©d©gapdeJnfbr©t^k 
eame +© you. 


fhroaj 


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were born : the other three 
were Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, and Pud- 
d’nhead Wilson — you know them? And now, 
though his hair is white, the Boy is still a boy. 
Look at his keen eye : does it not tell you that he 
knows as well now as sixty years ago just what 
you feel and how you think ? 

But where he was born is of more moment 
than when , for if he had been a big-city boy, or a 
Boston boy, he might have been quite different. 
He surely never would have been Tom Sawyer, or 
Huckleberry Finn, or Pudd’nhead Wilson ; nor 
47 



could he have fallen into the Mississippi River 
three times, and six times into Bear Creek, to be 
fished out these nine times quite “ drownded.” — 
Ask him if he did not say “ drownded when he 
was a youngster (every well-regulated boy does at 
first) to the distraction of his parents. 

When he was eleven years old his father died, 
and he did not go to school after that. Every- 
body knew him by the name of Samuel — and 
called him Sammy, of course. But by whichever 
one of the four names we call him, all the children 
know him well. One name would seem to be 
quite enough, but he has still another — Mark 
Twain. This he gave to himself several years after 

48 




UA 







he had reached the height of his (then) ambition 
and had become a pilot on a Mississippi River boat. 
If you have read “ Life on the Mississippi ” (and 
every one of you should — it is a most fascinating 
story, and a true one) you know that “ mark 
twain” was the Mississippi leadsman’s call for 
two fathoms of water, as he took soundings — 
and so we got our Mark Twain. 

The boy came of good blood on the side of 
both parents. Florida, Missouri, was his birth- 
place. Later his parents moved to Hannibal, 
Missouri. The lad soon outgrew this town; the 
embryo Mark Twain was already calling softly to 
the youth Samuel : he heard. At eighteen he 
started out on his world-wide wanderings, and he 
has lived pretty much the whole world over since. 

50 


SAMUEL LANGHORNE CLEMENS 51 


This gives one who has eyes to see and ears to 
hear the most liberal kind of an education, and it 
would be difficult to find a man — a boy, 1 mean — 
who has used eyes and ears to better purpose. 

To name all the books he has written would be 
a waste of space. They are in every library and 
everybody has read them ; and they tell the story 
of his life better than any one could possibly tell 
it. Do any of you doubt that the contents of 
Tom Sawyer’s bulging pockets were other than 
our Samuel’s daily collection of flotsam ? Or that 
it was Sammy Clemens, and not Tom Sawyer at 
all, who did n't whitewash that fence ? What 
tears he has made us shed ! — of laughter and 
of the other kind ; and what enchanting dreams 
he has given us in describing “ The Prince and 
the Pauper,” or some beautiful country ! — like 
Hawaii, of which he says : “ No alien land in all 



LAUREL LEAVES 


52 

the world has any deep strong charm for me but 
that one ; ” and again : “ In my nostrils still lives 
the breath of flowers that perished twenty years 
ago.” 

And between the lines, if you look sharp, you 
can read just what sort of a man the boy has 
grown to be. Here you will discover sensitive- 
ness to new impressions, youthful enthusiasms — 
which beautify life — the keenest sense of humor, 
love of justice, hatred of tyranny and cruelty, 
loyalty to men and principles, great breadth of 
view, great tolerance. And last but not least, he 
does not shrink from the “ trouble ” it may be to 
do an act of kindness or to right a wrong. What 
better close to these inadequate words than those 
which he once wrote to me ? “ It is certainly not 
a little thing in this world to be fortunate enough 
to have given pleasure to a dweller in it , and to 
know that I have achieved this with you is a 
thing which I greatly value.” Remembering, 
then, that Samuel Langhorne Clemens — the Mark 
Twain we hold in our hearts — does not despise 
the “little things ” may inspire you to try to make 
the world a happier place for some other “ dweller 
in it.” 
























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Kin 


















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.^Vjyey&ge =sKe made tfon "menhaden, 
'f?orn Which •she returned deeply laden 

-r- #.£- * . .*■ , , * . # 

Iheee Were bu^heb and bushels galore, 

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&£or° Iffere N*?a«s <\©r a ^poor^ful 


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Ou Ad / e J 'A^,^' n y 

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Would Jayt^aftbicS^i©: 

Elxull^el ir\ eloiv\0 





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Tk? t\ei^Kb®Fl\o©el ail Were supplied, 
7\r\d tt\e country ©n. tfzvy 




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Grevtf timorous <aS <sK.c grt'd ©Id, 



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Rsrn.j^aa'p'ojfeiy will, rr\ja.c(e ©ury. 
/v\el r\@v?, e\?ery aufUraa ©f jlpo\^ei^, 
6U\\<S ©dde^f of dopiej Ojwf 

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wK'cK./lo a %^d bar\.K\er^ of ejlopy. 

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the end of almost half a century. The copy is in 
his own boyish, ill-spelled print ; and it bears no 
date. The present owner, his aunt Henrietta, 
well remembers the circumstances and the occa- 
sion, however, having been an active participant 
in the acts the poem describes, although she avers 
that she had no hand in its composition. The 
original, it seems, was transcribed by The Boy 
upon the cover of a soap box, which served as a 
headstone to one of the graves in his family 
burying-ground, situated in the back-yard of the 
75 


76 


LAUREL LEAVES 


Hudson Street house, from which he was taken 
before he was nine years of age. The monument 
stood against the fence, and this is the legend it 
bore — rhyme, rhythm, metre, and orthography 
being carefully preserved : 







and women ; but upon nothing in his whole ex- 
perience does he look back now with greater sat- 
isfaction than upon his slight intercourse with the 
first great man he ever knew. Quite a little lad, 
he was staying at the Pulaski House in Savannah, 
in 18?? — perhaps it was in — when his 
father told him to observe particularly the old 
gentleman with the spectacles, who occupied a 
seat at their table in the public dining-room ; for, 
he said, the time would come when The Boy 
would be very proud to say that he had break- 
fasted and dined and supped with Mr. Thackeray. 
He had no idea who, or what, Mr. Thackeray was ; 
but his father considered him a great man, and 
79 


80 


LAUREL LEAVES 


that was enough for The Boy. He did pay partic- 
ular attention to Mr. Thackeray, with his eyes and 
his ears ; and one morning Mr. Thackeray paid a 
little attention to him, of which he is proud, 
indeed. Mr. Thackeray took The Boy between 
his knees, and asked his name, and what he 
intended to be when he grew up. He replied, 
“A farmer, sir.” Why, he cannot imagine, for 
he never had the slightest inclination towards a 
farmers life. And then Mr. Thackeray put his 
gentle hand upon The Boy’s little red head, and 
said : “Whatever you are, try to be a good one.” 

To have been blessed by Thackeray is a distinc- 
tion The Boy would not exchange for any niche 
in the Temple of Literary Fame; no laurel crown 
he could ever receive would be able to obliterate 
or to equal the sense of Thackeray’s touch ; and 
if there be any virtue in the laying on of hands, 
The Boy can only hope that a little of it has 
descended upon him. 

And whatever The Boy is, he has tried, for 
Thackeray’s sake, “ to be a good one.” 



































































































EW children now living have 
ever heard of Joseph Brant. 
One hundred years ago he was 
known to many children in 
Central New York. His name 
frightened them whenever it was spoken. He 
was the most important Indian who ever lived in 
that part of the State. During the Revolution 
he was the leader in the dreadful destruction 
of homes and killing of families which resulted 
in driving thousands to seek homes elsewhere. 
Some little account of this man should interest 
children to-day. 



83 




























JOSEPH BRANT 


8 ? 


The name he is known by is not his real Indian 
name, which was Thayendanegea, and in that 
language means a bundle of sticks or strength. 
His parents were Indians of the Mohawk tribe, and 
his home was at Canajoharie, Indian Castle, a 
town familiar to many children who have travelled 
on the railroad along the Mohawk Valley. A very 
remarkable white man named Sir William Johnson 
lived in that part of the State, and became inter- 
ested in Thayendanegea. He sent him away to 
Connecticut and had him educated at Lebanon 
with other Mohawk boys. Here he learned to 
read and write, and gained some knowledge of 
arithmetic. His handwriting was very good — 
much more easily read than that of many white 
men living to-day. 

Sir William Johnson afterwards took Brant into 
his own house, where, according to the Indian 
custom, Brant’s sister Mollie had become Sir Wil- 
liam’s wife. In Sir William’s house, still standing 
at Johnstown, New York, the newel post in the 
hall shows the mark which Brant one day made 
there with his tomahawk. Brant acted as inter- 
preter to Sir William, and became very useful to 
missionaries who arrived among the Indians, and 
not only preached to them, but taught them many 






JOSEPH BRANT 


87 


useful things. He was exceedingly kind to these 
missionaries. Other white men who went into 
Central New York to explore the country employed 
Brant as a guide. He was often at Otsego Lake, 
where J. Fenimore Cooper, after the war, when a 
child about four years old, settled with his father. 
He built canoes for them, and thus made journeys 
along creeks and rivers and across lakes. 

During the war between the English in America 
and the French who owned Canada, Sir William 
Johnson became a general, and Joseph Brant was 
attached to his staff. He went with him to 
Oswego and Niagara, and afterward to Lake 
George, where Sir William commanded in an 




JOSEPH BRANT 


89 


important battle. Brant took part in this fight, 
which was his first experience of war. He said 
afterwards that when the firing began he “ shook 
like an aspen leaf.” 

When finally the Revolution had begun, Brant 
took sides with the English, and with the other 
Mohawks went to Canada. Here were organized 
expeditions against the settlers in Central New 
York, who lived on what was then the frontier. 
Beyond their settlements no white man lived. 
New York west of Utica and Binghamton was 
Indian territory, secured to them by treaty, and 
no white men were allowed to take up lands 
there. 

The warfare which ensued is known in history 
as the Border Wars. It lasted from 1777 until 
1782 — a period of five years, during which the 
Mohawk and upper Susquehanna valleys were re- 
duced to a state of desolation. Here were about 
twelve thousand farms which the owners had to 
abandon. Two-thirds of the population either 
died or fled. Of those who remained three hun- 
dred had become widows and two thousand were 
orphans. There were often battles in the open 
country, actual massacres of whole settlements, as 
at Cherry Valley, and Wyoming in Pennsylvania, 


90 


LAUREL LEAVES 


and in these terrible events many children were 
killed outright by the Indians. 

Joseph Brant was the principal leader in some 
of those events, but he had as superior officers 
white men who were called Tories. By them he 
was urged to undertake his work, and he often 
said afterwards that they were “ more savage than 
many savages.” He often tried to restrain the 
Indians in their cruelty. Sometimes he succeeded, 
and many cases are known where he saved the 
lives of both white men and women who were 
his friends. 

One of his methods for doing this was to place 
upon a house a certain mark with white chalk or 
black coal, the meaning of which was understood 
by other Indians to be that this family was to be 
protected by Brant’s orders. He sometimes re- 
leased prisoners when he knew they were Masons, 
and gave the sign, for Brant was a Mason himself. 
In one case of this kind the man had been bound 
to a tree and was about to be burned, when Brant 
ordered him released, the Masonic sign having 
been given to him: Before the massacre of Cherry 
Valley, Brant once made a visit to the place in 
order to ascertain if any troops were in the vil- 
lage. He climbed a tree on a neighboring hill and 



Lord 

GEO. GERMAINE 



92 


LAUREL LEAVES 


looked down upon a fort, within which he saw 
what he supposed to be soldiers parading on the 
grass. He concluded not to make an attack. 
Afterwards he learned that it was not soldiers 
who were parading, but village boys wearing 
paper caps and marching with wooden swords. 

Brant twice went to London, and came to know 
many distinguished men. One of these was Lord 
George Germaine, who was a member of the 
King’s cabinet. Under Germaine’s direction 
much of the warfare in Central New York was 
conducted. Brant several times went out to din- 
ner in London and met famous men. Among 
these were Burke, Fox, and Sheridan. He was 
invited to call upon the King, George III., but 
when the King extended his hand for Brant to 
kiss in the usual way for visitors, Brant declined 
to do so. He gave as his reason the good Ameri- 
can excuse, that he, too, was a sovereign. But 
Queen Charlotte was present at this interview, 
and Brant graciously bent over and kissed her 
hand. 

A great ball was given in honor of Brant during 
his stay in London. He dressed himself in full 
Indian costume, putting on feathers and war paint 
and carrying his tomahawk. One of those present 












JOSEPH BRANT 


% 


was a Turk who had come from the Sultan as 
ambassador to the English court. The Turk mis- 
took the paint on Brant’s face for a visor of metal, 
such as men used to wear in battle. He went up 
to Brant and touched his face, which gave Brant 
a chance to have some sport with the Turk. He 
sprang back suddenly from the company near 
him, sounded the war whoop in true Indian 
fashion, glared savagely at the Turk, and flashed 
his shining tomahawk high in the air. Every one 
was startled, and the Turk is said to have turned 
very pale. The son of George 111., who was then 
the Prince of Wales, and afterwards became King 
as George IV., took Brant to many interesting 
places in London, some of which were not at all 
nice. Brant afterwards described them as “ very 
queer places for a prince to go to.” 

In America, Brant made the acquaintance of 
many distinguished Americans after the war. In 
Philadelphia he met Washington, Aaron Burr, and 
John Hancock. Talleyrand, afterwards the War 
Minister of Napoleon, was in Philadelphia at the 
time, and Brant came to know him. Aaron Burr’s 
daughter, the celebrated Theodosia Burr, was then 
living in New York, and Burr introduced him to 
her. She gave a dinner in Brant’s honor, and 


' 















JOSEPH BRANT 


97 


several distinguished men attended it. Among 
them was Bishop Moore, who was then at the 
head of the Episcopal Church in New York State. 

One of Brant’s intimate English friends was the 
Duke of Northumberland, who, as Earl Percy, had 
been in this country as a general during the 
Revolution. Brant and he had sometimes slept 
in the same tent. For many years afterwards the 
Duke of Northumberland kept a portrait of Brant 
at his home in England. It hung in the private 
room of the Duke’s wife. Sometimes the Duke 
sent presents to Brant, such as a brace of pistols. 
He once wrote him a letter in which he signed 
himself “ with the greatest truth, your affectionate 
friend and brother.” 

Brant was remarkable as a man who made fast 
friends, and especially among men who were of 
more importance in the world than he was. He 
had acquired excellent manners — knew how to 
behave among nice people. He was always true 
to his friends and never forgot a favor ; nor did 
he ever forget an injury. He had the true Indian 
nature. 

When the Revolution closed, the Mohawk 
Indians were obliged to leave New York and settle 
in Canada. Here a large tract of land was given 








to them by the English. It lay along a beautiful 
and fertile valley. They built houses to live in, 
and a church, for which Brant secured a part of 
the money, was erected. Brant assisted the 
minister to translate parts of the Bible into the 
language of his own people. These translations 
were published in London, and copies of them are 
now very scarce, being worth large sums. He 
received from England a salary as a retired Cap- 
99 


100 


LAUREL LEAVES 


tain of the Army, and turned to agriculture. He 
raised a great many horses and had thirty or forty 
negro slaves. At Brantford, a town named after 
him, in Ontario, Canada, an imposing monument 
to Brant was erected several years ago at a cost of 
fifteen thousand dollars, of which sum the Indians 
themselves contributed five thousand dollars. 



Descendants of Brant are still living. One of 
these is named J. 0. Brant-Sero. His home is in 
Canada, but just now he is staying in England, 
giving lectures on the history of his people. 
During the war in South Africa, Brant-Sero tried 
to become a soldier in the English army, but was 
not allowed to do so. In spite of this he went to 
South Africa in order that he might see the war. 
He afterwards complained that white men in that 
country did not treat him as he had been treated 
in Canada. On the sidewalk they insisted that 
he should turn out for them ; but this he was not 
willing to do. He quite understood a man’s 
rights. 


JOSEPH BRANT 


101 


Probably no people anywhere have a more keen 
sense of their rights than the New York Indians. 
They always insisted on this in dealing with white 
men, and would never acknowledge that they 
were inferior. Again and again they told the 
English, when making treaties with them, that 
they were “ born free.” They never acknowl- 
edged that even the King of England, whom they 
called their “ friend that lives across the great 
lake,” had any authority over them. They once 
sent a message to the King that they were born 
free and expected to remain so. Brant was a true 
son of that noble but almost forgotten Mohawk 
tribe which once owned a very large part of New 
York State, and now has not a foot of ground in 
that State to call its own. 







ones 

































































































% 
































V^aJJL 








AVID WALLACE, the father of 
General Lewis Wallace, was elected 
Governor of Indiana by the Whigs 
in 1837. He was a man of elegant 
manners, broad culture, and commanding presence, 
and it was through him, as member of Congress 
from 1837 to 1843, that one of the most impor- 
tant of the inventions that have benefited man- 
kind took definite shape and direction. For three 
years the magnetic telegraph went beggingin vain 
through the halls of Congress. The inventor then 
went to Europe with the hope of securing sub- 
stantial aid. His mission utterly failed. He re- 
8 113 


114 


LAUREL LEAVES 


turned to Washington : the early sessional months 
of 1845 were closing when the special committee 
vote was finally taken. The roll-call went down 
the list, every Whig voting for an appropriation, 
and every Democrat against it. The end of the 
alphabet was nearly reached; the pros and cons 
were even, with but one more vote to be cast. 
David Wallace decided the day by casting his 
vote for the thirty thousand dollars which enabled 
Professor Morse to make successful trial of his 
electro-magnetic telegraph from Baltimore to 
Washington City. Governor Wallace was de- 
feated that autumn for re-election because of his 
action on this measure. 

General Wallace’s mother was Esther Test, the 
daughter of Judge John Tesf, member of Con- 
gress. From her he inherited his love for art and 
literature. She was not only a highly gifted 
woman, but possessed rare beauty and charm of 
manner. “ She departed long ago, in the fairness 
of her youth,” as General Wallace expressed it. 
Governor Wallace’s second wife was Miss Zerelda 
Saunders, who lived to a good old age. In her 
the children left to her care found a conscientious 
and devoted mother who loved them as tenderly 
as if they were her own. 



Lew. Wallace was born in Brookville, Indiana, 
April 10, 1827. In September, 1837, his elder 
brother, William, became a student in Wabash 
College at Crawfordsville, Indiana. Lewis, then 
a boy of ten years, was left at home in Coving- 
ton, but his heart was with his brother in the new 
college thirty miles away. “ An uncle was going 
to Crawfordsville one day; seeing the opportu- 
nity, Lewis ran ahead on the road, and waited 
115 


116 


LAUREL LEAVES 


in ambush. When the gentleman came up, his 
bridle was caught, and the horse led to a stump. 
To the vehement protest there was but one 
answer, given when the nephew was mounted 
behind the saddle. ‘ I ’m going to Crawfordsville. 
Go on.’ Presenting himself to his brother and 
the faculty, all equally astonished, Lewis was 
enrolled a ‘ prep ’ of the institution.” “ The race 
was on and the soul of the racer was in it.” 

When seven years old the boy lost his mother. 
From that time until he was grown he refused to 
submit to control or restraint, but fortunately his 
tastes were pure and refined, and his unlimited 
liberty was not abused. However, he could never 
be induced or forced to go to school. His father 
used to say that he had “paid Lewis’ tuition for 
fourteen years, and he had never gone to school 
one.” He preferred to roam the fields and woods, 
a close student of nature in all her moods; yet 
from childhood he was a constant reader. He 
had, too, a decided taste for drawing. Scraps of 
paper, bits of wood, the fly-leaves of his other- 
wise unused school-books were covered with 
clever caricatures of his schoolmaster and school- 
mates. He wore in those days a white oil-cloth 
cap, and when he went to church against his will, 



he filled the crown of it with faithful sketches of 
the preacher and others whose oddities happened 
to attract his attention. Though not regularly 
cultivated, the boy’s faculty for drawing was 
never lost, but became more and more correct and 
strong from continual practice. At one time he 
thought of being an artist, an ambition his father 
discouraged ; but his work has both strength and 
finish. 

Young Wallace spent his days in reading, draw- 
ing, and dreaming. Plants, trees, birds, fish, and 
animals were his familiar friends. He would dis- 
117 


118 


LAUREL LEAVES 


appear immediately after breakfast with a favorite 
book in his pocket, to be seen no more until 
nightfall. At sixteen, the lad wrote a novel called 
“ The Man at Arms: A Tale of the Tenth Cen- 
tury.” It covered three hundred closely written 
pages. Unfortunately the manuscript was lost 
while the author was in Mexico soldiering. 

Lewis was studying law at Indianapolis when 
war was declared against that country. He was 
then nineteen years of age ; he enlisted, and was 
elected Second Lieutenant, but the regiment to 
which he was assigned was detailed to guard 
provisions at the mouth of the Rio Grande, and 
was never in an engagement. He said he would 
give one year of his life only to see a battle. 
However, he received accurate and lasting impres- 
sions of the country and of the beauties of nature. 
Monterey, high above the sea-level, surrounded 
by cloud-capped mountains, skirted by a rapid 
river and embowered in orange groves, roses, and 
wreathing vines, — all were stamped on his sen- 
sitive memory ; so too were the speech, customs, 
bits of folk-lore, and history of the country. 

In his seventeenth year (1844), he began “The 
Fair God,” which he kept on hand as a pastime. 
It was advanced to the entry of Cortez into the 


/ 





120 


.LAUREL LEAVES 


capital of Montezuma, when at the beat of the 
drum he enlisted, and went to join General 
Taylor, then on his way to Monterey. Upon 
return from the war he resumed the book, vary- 
ing' study of the law with it. Not until 1873 
was the publication had — a long pastime indeed. 

In Mexico, through a comrade from Crawfords- 
ville, Lieutenant Wallace heard much of a young 
lady whom he had never seen ; and when he re- 
turned he at once sought the acquaintance of 
Susan Elston. He was a soldier fresh from the 
war ; she an interesting, lovely girl, charming in 
manner and appearance, herself a writer and as 
ardent a lover of books as himself. They were 
pleased with each other, and three years later, 
when she was scarcely out of her teens, they were 
married and began their life together at Coving- 
ton, Indiana — a little village on the Wabash. 
Here their only child, Henry Lane Wallace, was 
bom. Then they removed to Crawfordsville, 
Indiana, where they have lived ever since. The 
drawing-room windows of their modest gray 
house look over the sweep of sloping lawn out 
onto a pleasant street not a stone’s throw from 
the mansion in which Mrs. Wallace was born and 
where she spent her girlhood. Major Elston’s 





home was in a park of forty or fifty acres of large 
forest trees. Just to the rear of the Wallace 
house is a grove of magnificent beeches ; above 
these appears the tower of the beautiful building 
which General Wallace uses as his study, and 
calls “ a good working library.” A few feet from 
the porch of the house is a large beech tree under 
which many chapters of “Ben-Hur” were writ- 
ten. The author says : “ Do not imagine I wrote 
every day. Although it was my great desire to 
do so, 1 was a bread-winner, and had duties to 
attend to. There were many days when Ben- 
Hur would call to me, and with persistence ; on 
other days some other character would do the 
same, and at such times I was powerless to do 
aught but obey, and was forced to fly from court 
and client. Many of the scenes of the book were 
blocked out in my journeys to and from my 
122 




124 


LAUREL LEAVES 


office. The greater part of the work was done at 
home, beneath the old beech tree near my house. 
I have a peculiar affection for that tree. How 
often when its thick branches have protected me 
with their cooling shadows has it been the only 
witness to my mental struggles ; and how often, 
too, has it maintained a great dignity when it 
might have laughed at my discomfiture. The 
soft twittering of birds, the hum of the bees, 
the lowing of the kine, all made the spot dear 
to me.” 

While practising law at Crawfordsville and 
writing “ The Fair God,” the young man found 
time to drill a militia company. All of its mem- 
bers who went into actual service became, in a 
short time, commissioned officers. When Fort 
Sumter was fired upon Governor Morton offered 
the Adjutant-Generalcy of Indiana to Captain 
Wallace, who accepted, and later was appointed 
Colonel of the Eleventh Regiment of Volunteers, 
which soon became famous for its discipline and 
gallantry in action. He was rapidly promoted, 
and retired at the close of the Civil War with the 
rank of Major-General. 

In 1879 President Hayes commissioned Gen- 
eral Wallace Governor of New Mexico. While 



126 


LAUREL LEAVES 


there he was extremely popular with the people, 
and his administration was successful in every 
respect. 

An interesting but little known historic structure 
is the Governor’s Palace at Santa Fe. It is a long, 
one-story building, bounding one side of the beau- 
tiful pla{a which occupies the centre of the city. 
A deep portico covers its whole front, and the 
flagging beneath it forms a favorite promenade. 
Among other features of the old adobe building 
is shown the “Ben-Hur” room where General 
Wallace wrote several chapters of his famous 
novel “ Ben-Hur.” Of this incident the author 
says : “ When in the city my habit was to shut 
myself in the bedroom back of the executive 
office proper and write till after twelve o’clock. 
The sixth, seventh, and eighth books were the 
result, and the room has ever since been associ- 
ated in my mind with the crucifixion. The re- 
tirement, impenetrable to in-coming sound, was 
as profound as a chasm’s.” 

General Wallace resigned the office of Governor 
of New Mexico when President Garfield appointed 
him Minister Plenipotentiary of the United States 
to Turkey. When the commission was made out, 
the President wrote across the lower left-hand 




corner “ Ben-Hur — J. A. G.,” a delicate and 
beautiful tribute to the author. 

“ The Prince of India” was the fruit of General 
Wallace’s sojourn in Turkey, where he spent four 
years on terms of close and personal friendship 
with the Sultan, for whom he has yet a strong 
affection. The Sultan loaded him with honors, 
pressed rich gifts on him which by law he could 
not accept, gave him the most informal access to 
the palace at all times, and offered him important 
posts in his own government if he would remain 
128 


GENERAL LEWIS WALLACE 129 


in Turkey after his term of office expired. All 
were declined, and he returned to Crawfords- 
ville. 

When General Wallace went to the Holy Land, 
places sacred to the Mohammedan, and never 
before free to the foot of a Christian, were thrown 
open to him ; and he was entertained during the 
whole journey as the guest of the Sultan. 

In his private life General Wallace has been 
extremely happy. His wife has been the most 
sympathetic and helpful of companions ; through- 
out the Civil War she was with him whenever it 
was possible, and ministered tirelessly to the needs 
of the soldiers. She also went with her husband 
to Constantinople, where, as the wife of the United 
States Minister, she assumed many difficult and 
social duties, but nevertheless found time, among 
many other charming things, to write a series of 
letters, which finally appeared in book form as 
“ The Storied Sea.” 

The literary methods of General Wallace are 
peculiar. He first writes on a slate, then copies 
on paper, and recopies until the work meets his 
approval. While at work on “Ben-Hur” he fre- 
quently sat up till daybreak. Once when asked 
at breakfast what he had accomplished, he an- 
9 






GENERAL LEWIS WALLACE lji 


swered : “ I wrote ten lines, and this morning I 
scratched them out.” 

While “Ben-Hur” has been translated into 
more tongues than any other modern book, and is 
being staged around the world, gathering laurels 
for the author and his gracious wife, they are 
passing their halcyon days beneath the shadows 
of their beeches at Crawfordsville, Indiana. There, 
still writing at times, and with the society of their 
books, friends, child, and beloved grandchildren, — 
Lewis Wallace, Junior, and his brother, Noble Wal- 
lace, who perpetuate the name, — they are happy. 










* 



mj 


■HMIl 1 1 iMUatfaa«K« >-. 



l hen first into IfCryland If went 

i 

was so happy and so eontent? 


,or a little fairy earried me there 


ho had large blue eyes and golden hair 




ndthe treesandthe sty in the smooth lake dreamed « 



lere we played party, down in the glen, 

* ^ 

id made believe ladies and gentlemen , 

^ _ M 

(Sid put on their airs and talked of the weather, 

t & 

l we were so happy together*, 



id oar sugar were only pretend. 



ImtweffdamwM strawberries there without end, 

id these on a great-leaf dish we 

$ 

ith an 'arum for piteher all dewey wet 




h had at c/url ea parole's many a friend; 

I 1 

it they, like the sugar and tea, we re pretend? 

1 

I / 

'o we made believe help theirvsndpour out ttieir eup ? 

A 


'find their berries and eake we ourselves ate up. 



L planted with flower-seeds ever so thick , „ s 
'fnd stuek all th e wild flow^we found in ft, too, 
Und dug them up daily to see \how they grew^" 




l our children we hushed into I 
Und woveJWreaths ofwoodhlne to wear on our head* 
Und barberries for earings we tied on with strings 9 

'%» 0 s i&2 f \f e \j^% 

JJ Und went to make visitsto queens and to kings. 




the fairy returns not who carried me there 9 


nd the place without her would be dreary and hareo 








his famous country seat on the sea. To proceed 
thither to see our great hero, accompanied by a 
brass band, was rather exciting for a girl of thir- 
teen, and to be met by Mrs. Webster in her car- 
riage (all in white, a fine-looking, dark-eyed 
woman) seemed to me to be very distinguished. 
My mother and a friend were placed in the seat 
of honor, and I was asked to mount the box, in 
which Mr. Webster was driving, himself. To say 
that I was frightened as those big black eyes 
swept me up is to state it mildly; but I lived 
through it, and since 1 was young and small I was 
143 


144 


LAUREL LEAVES 


allowed the seat next to Mr. Webster on the 
driver’s box. How elated I felt as my tall father 
put me up there, and he whispered in my ear: 
“ Remember this, my daughter ; you are to drive 
five miles with Daniel Webster as your coach- 
man ! ” 

It was the most impressive and attractive thing 
about Mr. Webster that all his friends called him 
always “ Daniel Webster.” My coachman, who 
was dressed in a plain suit of gray, with a wide- 
awake hat, and a loosely tied neckerchief of red, 
began immediately to make himself agreeable. 

“So this is your first visit to the sea, Miss 
Wilson?” said he. 

I could have told him that he was the first per- 
son to address me as “ Miss Wilson.” 1 was not 
old enough for titles then. 

And so he went on smiling and showing his 
splendid teeth, which were as white and regular 
as a string of pearls, looking down on me with 
his great black eyes, which were fabulously hand- 
some. He pointed out to me Seth Peterson who 
was walking along the road, and who stopped to 
take some orders from his fellow-fisherman. 

“ You will eat to-day some fish which Seth 
and 1 caught this morning,” said Mr. Webster. 



146 


LAUREL LEAVES 


I was frightened to death, but I made a lucky 
hit by asking what sort of fish were the easiest to 
catch. 

He launched off on his favorite subject, and 
told me of the gamey bass and the reluctant cod 
and so on ; when I said : 

“ 1 suppose you enjoy fish which are the hard- 
est to catch, don’t you, Mr. Webster ? ” 

He looked round at me and laughed. “You 
are beginning young, Miss Wilson,” said he; 
“ that is the remark of a coquetfe.” 

And af dinner he embarrassed me very much 
by repeating this conversation as a piece of youth- 
ful precocity. 

Our drive was only too short, as we soon 
reached the long, low, pleasant white house 
known as Marshfield. 

Mrs. Webster — a Miss LeRoy by birth — had 
very distinguished manners, and I felt awed as 
she received me every day with a lofty courtesy, 
on the veranda. 

The house was full of company : Judge Warren, 
a famous wit, was there. Mr. Webster laughed 
at everything he said. A great Whig demonstra- 
tion had just taken place, and one man had put a 
flag in a sheaf of wheat as his part of the proces- 



148 


LAUREL LEAVES 


sion. “ He did n’t want things to go against the 
grain,” said Judge Warren. 

The dinner was profuse and excellent. Mr. 
Webster had dressed for it, and looked so grand 
in his blue coat and brass buttons that I was 
more and more afraid of him ; but he grew more 
and more kind. 

He offered a goose for the piece de resistance , 
and carved it himself with great deftness. He 
afterwards whispered to me that he was afraid it 
would not go round. 

Every day for a week he gave me the honor 
and pleasure of a drive, and every day the com- 
pany changed. 1 liked him best in the mornings, 
when, with his soft hat on his head, he sat on the 
veranda with his dogs and his friends, talking, 
telling stories, and being the genial and magnetic 
host. 



live product f f?e garden sent f o fire House , 
dancing and prancing and gay little mouse, 

“ ine Jr^ijunfft ffie mouse* But xll never Be eaw/ftis 
S^oever Has set if, Hassell if /or naugRf!* 

<4< WW rislt in a spring ,wfticftvve'wa£eft as we please? 
I *H laugR a£ ffiis firing wfienteaf up ffis efieese.” 
J^Hroifly and }|uic)&Iy Re snafefted a£ ffie fiaif , 

He£ guielter £Ke spring, flfiaf decided Bis /ale.i2jJ=J 
f^So Lureflr tempi aiion £o venture and wrecK; 3 
r In vain tfte mouse struggled wfien caugftf By fire neeH . 











OCT 21 1903 









LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

D00ElEt,3S3^ 























